Safe Haven
by images-in-words
Summary: AU. Co-written with DivineEscape. When Santana opened the door to the apartment she and Rachel shared, she did not expect to see Quinn Fabray standing in the doorway, smiling weakly back at her, swaying unsteadily on her feet and looking like death warmed over - only without the warmth. [CW: domestic abuse]
1. Chapter 1

_Chapter One_

"So I thought since Q moved to New York City with her new ritzy ditzy boyfriend last year, she'd be hanging out with us more? It's been, like, six months since we last saw or heard from her."

Rachel smiled at Santana, who was currently bent over trying on a new pair of heels, trying to decide if they'd really been worth the money she'd spent on them. "Aww, is Santana jealous?"

Santana stood up, blowing some of her hair out of her face, and crossed her arms defensively, tilting her head to give Rachel a look. "I'm not jealous."

"Yes, you are," Rachel stated matter of factly, "You're not with Dani anymore, and even though you live here with me, and we've somehow managed to develop a healthy friendship, I can tell you crave a deeper level of best friendship, something like Kurt and I have - and you were secretly wishing that Quinn would fill that void when she moved here."

Santana's face twisted in a confused expression, something that happened frequently when conversing with Rachel. "What secret void? What are you even talking about, Berry?!"

"Jealous!" Rachel singsonged at her with that _I know I'm right _smile of hers, the one that always made Santana want to slap it right off her face.

"Oh, please! If anything, I was excited that I would have someone to go to the clubs with, someone who could handle more than two drinks - unlike Lady Hummel, who got kicked out of the last club we went to for upchucking all over the dance floor, not to mention my favorite dress."

She stood up, drawing herself to her full height - which, embarrassingly, was really only a couple of inches taller than Rachel was.

"And _you!_ Why do you always have to turn _everything_ into a musical? You don't _always_ have to sing, you know - sometimes you can just have sex!"

"Kurt had food poisoning that night," Rachel retorted. "And I...well, I _like_ performing. I'm an actress - that's what I do!"

With that, she executed as perfect a diva storm-out as she could in the loft, and dramatically pulled closed the curtain to her room closed. It wasn't as satisfying as slamming a door shut, but she'd learned to do what she could with what she had available.

Just as Santana was about to respond with her usual witty, sarcastic remark, there came a soft knock at the door. Sighing, she walked over to the door, and as always, her heels clicked annoyingly on the hardwood floor, every step of the way. How she hated that sound! She swore she'd never be able to get used to it. It just made her miss the plush carpets she'd grown up with in her house back home in Lima all over again.

When she slid the door open, whatever she might have expected to encounter, she was definitely _not _prepared for the sight of the complete disaster on the other side. Her eyes widened with complete shock, her entire body frozen in utter disbelief.

It was Quinn Fabray, smiling weakly at Santana standing in the doorway, swaying unsteadily on her feet and looking like death warmed over - only without the warmth.

_"Quinn?"_

"Santana..."

With shaky legs she took a tiny step forward, needing to get inside the apartment. It hadn't been easy for to make her daring escape, and now she wanted nothing more than to be inside and hidden.

"I need – your help -" she gasped out, feeling her body finally beginning to succumb to the pain and fatigue. Her bruised and bloody body was in desperate need of rest, and now that she was in what felt like a place of safety at last, she collapsed in her friend's arms.

"What the fuck, Quinn?" Santana murmured lowly, barely able to comprehend what was happening as she caught the blonde before she hit the floor, maneuvering her so that she was carrying her bridal style. She rushed over to the couch, screaming, "Rachel! Rachel!"

"If you're calling me out here just so you can make fun of the way I dance at the club..." the petite brunette warned as she came through the curtain to see Santana with what looked like a person in her arms. Both hands flew to her mouth when she caught a glimpse of the blonde hair spilling over Santana's arm.

"Oh my God!" she cried out. "Is - is that Quinn!?"

Santana swallowed hard as she knelt down beside the couch, carefully cradling Quinn's head in her hands.

"Quinn..." she said softly, trying to get her friend to wake up, fearful that she might have a concussion. She'd seen that unfocused, glassy-eyed look in the blonde's eyes before, when she'd taken a frightening fall during an afternoon Cheerios practice, and had never forgotten the terror she'd felt at that moment. That feeling returned to her now, many times stronger than it had been then.

Rachel slowly made her way over to the couch, unable to believe her own eyes as she took in the sight of the one-time HBIC of McKinley High School, now sprawled out on her couch, battered, bruised, and unhealthily thin. She was in sweat pants that were way too big for her, and her tank top didn't hide any of the marks on her arms - there were clearly visible hand prints on her upper arm and around her neck, and other bruises as well.

"We have to call 911," she finally said, choking back horrified tears at the blood seeping through where Quinn's white tank top rested on her abdomen.

"No." Quinn murmured. "You…you _can't_ call them." She struggled to open her eyes, only able to squint through the swelling that had developed around them.

"Quinn, we have to get you to the hospital," Santana pleaded, not understanding why Quinn would come all this way for help, then refuse to let them act.

"You _can't!_ He knows people there - he'll find me," Quinn cried, clearly panicked. She grabbed Santana's hand and squeezed it, hard. _"Please._ Don't. I'll be fine."

Santana carefully searched Quinn's eyes - she'd been about to disagree and allow Rachel call to 911, but the fright she found behind those hazel orbs was nothing like she had ever seen before, so she nodded in acquiescence.

"Okay, but let us clean you up, at least," she said at last. A tear fell slowly down her cheek as she heard Quinn's grateful sigh of relief.

She held up a hand to Rachel, a signal for her not to make the call. Just as she was about to get up to go search for first aid supplies, Quinn managed to wrap a frail hand around Santana's wrist, giving it as much of a squeeze as she could.

"Don't leave me." Quinn pleaded. "Please, don't go."

"I'm just going to get – "

"San..." Quinn whimpered. Her eyes fluttered shut as a wave of pain washed over her, rendering her unable to say anything more.

"Okay, Quinn, I'll stay with you," Santana said quietly, looking over her shoulder to find Rachel frozen in place, watching with red-rimmed eyes.

"Don't we have a first aid kit in the bathroom or something?" she asked. When the petite brunette didn't move, Santana tried again. "Rachel!?"

Rachel jolted when Santana's voice echoed through the apartment. She let out a slow, shaky breath and nodded, kind of glad she had an excuse to leave for just a second so she could get her emotions under control. She headed to the bathroom with a million and one thoughts spinning through her head, remembering that her dads had left a first aid kit under the bathroom sink the last time they'd come to visit.

She already knew what had happened, and if Quinn didn't want to deal with it right now at this moment, she figured that was fine - but Rachel had watched enough television and movies to know that if they were going to eventually take action, they needed evidence.

Slowly, Rachel knelt down next to Santana and handed her the first aid kit, still not able to fully look at Quinn. Instead, she held up her phone.

"We need to take pictures," she explained grimly. "If she doesn't want to go to the hospital or call the police, we…we'll need to present evidence of our own."

Santana nodded dumbly, her mind reeling as she raised the hem of Quinn's shirt to see the array of welts and bruises and scratches all over her abdomen. How could she possibly help, she wondered helplessly. Where was she even to begin?

But she couldn't give up before she'd even started. Not when Quinn needed them so badly. Sighing, she opened the first aid kit with shaking hands and began to pull out first aid cream, gauze and and bandages, knowing that this was going to be the longest day - and night - of her life.

* * *

**A/N: Hello, good people! It's been a while, hasn't it? I want to thank my friend and collaborator, DivineEscape, for coming up with the idea for this story, and for her invaluable contributions to it. I would also like to thank any and all of you out there who have taken the time to read this chapter. I hope you'll stick around for the ride, because we have a lot more to come, with many more chapters already written. Please leave a review and let us know what you like, what you don't like, and any suggestions, questions and / or ideas you may have. Oh, and one more thing: _Glee _forever!**


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

It was just as difficult for Rachel to see the blonde ex-Cheerio's beauty so brutally marred. Quinn was, after all, as Rachel had said on more than one occasion, the prettiest girl she had ever met, and a lot more than that besides. It seemed surreal, as though the Quinn lying before her was a different person, not the one she'd known and been friends with for years. In a way, though, Rachel thought - as she struggled to hold the phone steady and focus on taking the pictures they needed through eyes blurry with tears - she was.

Now her limbs were like matchsticks, her once-flawless skin mottled with bruises. Her fair face still retained traces of her youthful gorgeousness, but now looked worn and tired, lined with fear and worry. The happy, confident, optimistic young woman she had so admired seemed to have withered away, now replaced by the broken form lying exhausted and unconscious in a shattered heap on the couch. Sadness gave way to anger in Rachel's chest, burning like a flame that would only be quenched when justice was served and the man who had done this to her friend was punished to the fullest extent allowed by law.

Yet she was angry not only at the abusive boyfriend who was obviously responsible for this - if she was being honest with herself, she had to admit that she was angry with Quinn too. Why had she come to her and Santana for help only now? It was clear, judging from the fading bruises that had been joined by fresh ones, that this had been going on for some time. She had to know, however long this had been happening, that the apartment Rachel and Santana shared would be a safe haven if she ever needed one.

The rare times they had spoken with or seen her, Quinn had dismissed their concerns, downplayed her boyfriend's obvious issues with anger and possessiveness (more than once, they'd heard him raging in the background, even accusing her of cheating on him), and changed the subject as quickly as she possibly could. Rachel knew that Quinn was only with him because he came from a wealthy and politically connected family, and because she was still trying to hide from her true sexuality - unlike Rachel and Santana, who had both come out as gay years ago. Quinn was, they figured, bisexual at the very least, but the conservative religious upbringing she'd endured back home in Lima had made it exceedingly difficult for her to accept that fact, no matter how gently she'd been encouraged to do so.

Now things had come to this. And this? It was unacceptable. Intolerable. Rachel swore a silent vow that she would do everything in her power to help Quinn to not only recover from this latest assault, but to get out of the abusive nightmare of a relationship in which she'd clearly been trapped for far too long - and beyond that, to accept and love herself for who she truly was.

All the pictures finally taken, she put her phone aside and looked at Santana's face. Her feelings were rarely concealed from Rachel's gaze, and her concern and sorrow were plain to see, as was the building rage inside her.

"God, Rachel...I never thought I'd see her like this. How could this happen?" she asked in a plaintive voice, one that was thick with grief and anger. "The Quinn we knew back in high school, and even in college - she would have kicked the ass of anyone who even thought of raising a hand to her. Now - now she just lets him smack her around and do whatever he wants? Why? It doesn't make any fucking sense!"

"No, it doesn't," Rachel sighed in reply. "We all choose our own paths, Santana. Apparently Quinn has chosen the wrong one, and she's been on it for quite some time. Not all those bruises are new."

"What I wouldn't do to get my hands on the bastard who did this to her," she growled through clenched teeth. "I swear, I would - "

"You wouldn't do anything," Quinn croaked from the couch, trying to push herself into a sitting position. "You don't...you don't understand. Who he is. Who...his family is. They've got money, and power. Influence...like you wouldn't believe."

_"I don't care!"_ Santana shouted, flinging her arms out at her sides, exasperated. "I don't give a fuck _who_ he is, or about his family or any of that other crap. Nobody does this to - " She paused to catch herself, too late to keep the tears from flowing down her cheeks. Her voice caught, broke on the words. "Nobody does this to my friend. Nobody."

Quinn looked up at the diminutive diva and the volatile former cheerleader and felt a swell of affection for them in her chest, warring with the sense of shame that enveloped her at knowing she should have done this a long time ago. They must have no respect for her now. How could anyone respect this...this thing she'd become? They were probably only helping her out of pity. Gasping with pain, she tried to lift herself off the couch, wanting only to get away from here, to go somewhere, anywhere else.

"Hey, hey, HEY!" Santana shouted, rushing along with Rachel to her side when she nearly fell. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Quinn began to sob, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "I can't...I can't be here. He'll be looking for me. Or one of his people will. If he finds me. Oh, God - I can't let him...I can't put you two in any danger. Please - just let me go..." Her small body shook as she dissolved into full on tears, gripped with fear and shame and every other negative emotion she'd felt ever since she'd tried to leave her friends behind on her way to the higher echelons of New York society. "I don't - I don't deserve your help anyway."

"That's not true, Quinn," Rachel said softly, rubbing gentle, soothing circles on her back. "We love you. We'd do anything for you."

Santana suddenly shot up from the couch, furiously dialing a number on her phone.

"Santana? What are you - ?" Two sets of eyes looked questioningly at the angry Latina, who was herself shaking with barely repressed fury.

"Hey, Sam? Yeah, yeah, I know it's been a while. What? Yeah, I'm fine. Rachel is, too. Listen, Is Mike there with you? Good. I need a favor." She paused, letting the import of her words sink in as she tried to ignore the looks being sent her way by Rachel and Quinn. "Yes, seriously. How fast can you get to New York?"


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Three_

"S-San," Quinn groaned, her eyes following the furious Latina as she paced back and forth. "Don't bring anyone else into this – "

Santana held up her hand to silence her, talking for a few more minutes and then hanging up.

"I have to leave – he knows who you are!" Quinn said, trying to push Rachel out of the way. In this weakened state, however, the tiny diva was able to easily restrain her, keeping the agitated blonde in place.

"No, Quinn!" Santana shouted in frustration. "We're going to clean you up - and you're staying here with us, damn it!"

Quinn winced, huddling into Rachel, ducking her head down and whispering, "O-okay."

"Shhh!" Rachel turned to point a finger in Santana's direction. "Your aggressive behavior, although understandable considering the situation, isn't helping."

Although Santana hated to admit it, she knew that Rachel was probably right. After a few deep breaths, she walked over to kneel down in front of Quinn, gently taking her face in her hands. "Listen. You're safe with us. Even if we have to call Kurt and Blaine over here... hell, I'll even call Karofsky, if that's what it takes." She rested her forehead against Quinn's as the blonde began to shake with sobs once again. "We'll figure this out, Q. My Papi knows people too."

"Okay," was all Quinn could muster out.

"Let's – let's get you something to eat," Rachel suggested and stood up, watching as Quinn's head swiftly snapped in her direction, shaking it with worry.

"Oh, no. I – I can't," Quinn demurred. "I can't afford to put on any weight."

"Jesus Christ, Quinn!" Santana snapped, clenching her jaw once again when she felt Rachel place a hand on her shoulder. "This guy really did a number on you."

"Dry toast never hurt anyone," Rachel said in a conciliatory tone, not wanting to upset Quinn further.

Sitting her aching body down at the kitchen table, Quinn watched quietly as Rachel bustled around her, getting the bread out of the refrigerator, pouring coffee and orange juice, grabbing a plate and a napkin for Quinn, then finally placing the two slices of toast in front of her. Quinn accepted the toast, juice and coffee gratefully, returning Rachel's gentle smile even as she squirmed under Santana's fierce gaze. She knew both her friends wanted answers, but honestly, she was completely at a loss as to what to say. There was so much going on in her head, she had no idea where to even begin.

"I wish you hadn't called Sam and Mike," she said finally, taking a bite of the toast. "They don't need to get involved in this. The fewer people who know about it, the better."

Rachel sat down at the table and took Quinn's free hand in hers, squeezing it. The compassion in her eyes was so overwhelming that Quinn wanted to turn away, look anywhere else, but Rachel's gaze caught and held her.

"Look, I didn't know that Santana was going to do that, but I - I think it was the right thing to do. You need as many layers of protection between yourself and your - " She couldn't bring herself to say the word 'boyfriend' in this context. " - _him_...as possible. And you know that Sam and Mike care about you a great deal."

Quinn set her toast back down on the plate and shook her head, finally able to tear her eyes away from Rachel's. With a heavy sigh, she said, "Do they really? I broke Sam's heart in high school. And I barely spoke to Mike." She sighed again. Her voice was soft and filled with doubt. "No, I don't think they're doing this for me. They're doing it because you and Santana asked them to do it."

Rachel looked helplessly at Santana. Once again, she wondered what had happened to the Quinn she had known for most of their lives.

"Bullshit," Santana said finally. "They're doing it because they love you, Q. Everybody does. Hell, even Zizes sends me Facebook messages occasionally, asking how Lucy's doing."

That drew a weak chuckle from the blonde, who had been quietly sipping at her orange juice. "Zizes? God, how she would laugh if she could see me now."

"That's not true!" Rachel protested, aghast. "Lauren Zizes is far from my favorite person, but I know for a fact that she respects you, Quinn. Everybody does."

Quinn's toast crumbled in her hand, falling to the plate. She wiped her trembling hands with her napkin furiously, as though a single crumb between her fingers was a gross offense. "No...everybody respected my position as Head Cheerio. As the girl who came from a well-off family, who lived in one of the biggest, nicest houses in Lima," she replied. Her eyes were closed, fighting against tears, against exhaustion, against the memories that plagued her dreams. "The girl who went to Yale on a full scholarship. They don't know who I am now. What I've become..."

"Which is what?" Santana asked, deeply bothered by the anguish she saw in Quinn's face as she crumpled into sobs. Rachel looked as alarmed as Santana felt. They wanted so desperately to help Quinn, but they simply didn't know how to address this level of emotional distress. It was something beyond anything they'd ever seen before. All Rachel could do was shift her chair around the table so that it was next to Quinn's, enabling her to wrap a consoling arm around her friend's shoulders.

"A trophy, to the outside world," Quinn gasped finally, after several agonizing seconds of silence. "A slave, inside our apartment. A whore, in our bedroom."

Cold rage seized Santana's heart. She wanted to hold Quinn the same way Rachel was, but feared that she'd only shake her instead. So instead she turned and stalked away, slamming the bathroom door, not caring that her friends could hear when she shrieked out in pain and frustration, hurting so much for her friend that she didn't know what to do, letting her tears fall, dripping down her cheeks and into the sink.

Quinn winced in Rachel's arms when she heard the bathroom door slam, holding onto her still more tightly. She could not control the sobs taking over her body, barely able to whisper through a strangled breath, "I'm sorry."

Rachel pulled Quinn closer, gently running her hand up and down her back. "You have nothing to apologize for," she assured, her voice low and soothing. "I only wish you would have come to us sooner."

"Me too," Quinn said softly. She leaned into Rachel for comfort, pushing through the pain she felt pretty much everywhere. She wanted only to feel the warmth and safety of Rachel's arms around her, a feeling she had missed and craved for far too long.

It wasn't long before the bathroom door was pulled open and Santana stormed out. "You know what!?" she said, her voice laced with aggravation and hate, "I'm going over there."

Quinn's head snapped up, her eyes wide and filled with fear. "No!"

"Santana, please calm down." Rachel pleaded, her arms still wrapped around the trembling blonde. "You're not thinking rationally. You're just fueled on anger."

"Damn right I am!" Santana shouted, her fingers balling into fists. "I can't...I can't just sit around knowing that asshole did this to Quinn!"

"Santana, even if you went there and managed to hurt him," Quinn sighed, shaking her head. "It really wouldn't do any good. Probably, it would just make things worse. You don't understand the power his family has."

Santana shook her head, began to pace angrily. "But he deserves – "

"I know! I know what he deserves," Quinn tried to yell, her voice too weak to really project. "But I can't do anything about it!"

"He wasn't my boyfriend and I never liked the guy anyway, so I _can_ and I _will_ do something about it!" Santana shouted, searching for her coat. "Powerful my fucking ass! I'll show him powerful."

"Santana!" Rachel called, swiftly rising to her feet, given no choice but to leave Quinn's side. "You're not going anywhere!"

"Santana!" Quinn shouted as she leapt up, wincing when she felt something tear in her side. "God damn it," she whimpered, looking down to see blood starting to seep out from one of her wounds. "Please stay. Why do you think I came here?"

Santana's hand hovered over the door handle, rage still flowing through her. Quinn's frail voice was the only thing keeping her in place. She stood and waited to hear what her friend had to say.

"When I realized I couldn't exactly go to the police..." Quinn began to explain, tears stinging her eyes, "I realized the only place that I could go was...here," she admitted as she limped around the chair. Rachel followed, staying close. "Please stay – "she begged. Swallowing hard, she rolled her eyes at herself as another wave of shame washed over her. "I came here because you make me feel safe."

Santana let out a slow, shaky breath, wiping at a stray tear before she slowly turned around. "Well, fuck, Quinn."

"Okay, you need to sit down," Rachel said, slipping her arm back around Quinn's waist. "We need to patch you up properly and then come up with a plan of action."

_Knock, knock._

Quinn jumped and huddled into Rachel, her voice filled with terror. "He found me."


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Four_

"Oh, if that's him – " Santana spun around, her entire face a dark cloud of fury. She pulled the door open, ready to lay it down, not caring whether the person on the other side was twice or even three times her size. She took a purposeful step forward, holding her fist high, adrenaline running throughout her body like fever.

"Whoa! Hi, Satan!" Kurt smiled as he ducked to avoid the blow that never came, raising his hands in surrender. "I know I don't live here anymore, but can I come in?" he asked, peering over his former roommate's shoulder.

Quinn let out a ragged breath, sinking down in her chair. Her heart pounded in her chest while tears of panic streamed down her face, her hands tightly clutching at Rachel's forearm, her nails digging painfully into the flesh, though the other girl barely felt it through the rush of her own adrenaline.

Kurt's normally pale face whitened at least two shades more at the sight of Quinn Fabray in the middle of his former home, looking very much at the end of her rope. He recalled seeing her like this only once before, and...well, he'd rather not think about that time. He'd been trying to block it out for years now, and still hadn't quite succeeded.

"Close the door, Porcelain!" Santana yelled, so loud it made the fashionably dressed young man jump nearly out of his skin. "And slide the bolt, would you? We have a _situation_ here."

Shaken, Kurt did as he was told, rubbing his suddenly clammy palms together after sliding the bolt home. He took a deep breath to calm himself and slowly approached the former HBIC of McKinley High as if she were a wounded, but still dangerous, animal.

"Quinn?" he began gently, going down to one knee in front of the still-sobbing girl, completely taken off guard when she suddenly threw her arms around him as though he were a piece of driftwood, the only thing between her and drowning. "Whoa!" he exclaimed softly, returning the embrace. "Hey, hey...it's good to see you too."

He looked up questioningly at Rachel and Santana, who had been standing by quietly - _too_ quietly, Kurt thought - watching this touching, if unexpected, reunion between him and Quinn. Their eyes were somber, their expressions gravely serious. Kurt felt a chill travel down his spine at the way they looked; he hadn't seen them look that way since Santana's _abuela_ had taken ill and passed away.

Feeling Quinn's arms grow limp with exhaustion, Kurt moved back a little to let them drop to her sides.

"Quinn, sweetheart? Not that it isn't wonderful to see you, but...what's going on?"

Rachel came over to place a comforting hand on Quinn's shoulder. The bruised and tired girl reached a hand up to cover it, smiling weakly as she leaned her head against the other girl's hip.

"Kurt, Quinn is - she's having a bit of _domestic_ trouble, if you understand my meaning. It's a delicate situation, but we're handling it. She's going to be staying with us for as long as she needs to, and Mike and Sam are coming in from Chicago for a visit as well."

Kurt's eyes went wide as he realized what Rachel was telling him, then widened still further when he saw how tightly Santana was gripping her own arms, as she always did whenever her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. He stood up, taking Quinn's other hand in his, raising to his lips to kiss the back of it softly.

"Oh, Quinn," he said, his voice thick with distress. "What can I do to help? I can call my father...or...or I can get in touch with Sebastian at his law firm. Oh! Maybe Blaine knows someone from his boxing class..."

"Right now, the best thing you can do is just be here for Quinn," Rachel stated firmly. "Oh, maybe we can all watch a movie! Would you like that, Quinn?"

"I don't know if Q could handle a musical right now, Berry," Santana interjected before the blonde could even begin to answer the question. "I think she probably needs rest more than anything. Come on, Fabray - what do you say to sharing my bed, like old times?"

Quinn laughed - a full, real laugh - for the first time since her arrival. "You know what? That sounds really good," she said. "Maybe…maybe can watch a movie later?"

Her eyes sought Rachel's and met them, seeing the warmth she knew she would find there. Her chest felt too small to contain the gratitude she felt for her friends. "Is that okay with you, Rachel?" At the tiny diva's nod, she turned her gaze to the young man in front of her. "Kurt?"

"Of course, sweetie," Kurt said, patting her knee softly. "We'll be right here after you and Santana have your nap."

Rachel squeezed Quinn's hand, pleased when Quinn squeezed back. "Yes, we will. Go and rest. Maybe you'll feel up to some lunch later?"

"Maybe." She looked to Santana, a question in her eyes. "San? Where's your room again? It's been a while..."

Santana stepped over to take Quinn into her arms, lifting her up bridal style once again. It troubled her how light she was; it felt as though she weighed almost nothing, a dried leaf in a gale.

"Here you go, Q. Air Santana, first class. Traveling in style."

The blonde rested her head against her best friend's shoulder, beginning to feel safe and loved for the first time in way too long. Still, a voice in the back of her mind warned her not to get too comfortable. Things could change at any moment. If she'd learned anything this last year, she'd learned that.

* * *

When they reached Santana's bed, she carefully laid Quinn down on the mattress, where the blonde immediately curled herself up into a fetal position and pulled the covers over herself as though to hide from Santana, or maybe the world. The sight filled Santana with an aching sadness. How could her once strong and independent co-captain have been reduced to bruises and shame like this? No matter how she tried, she just couldn't understand it.

Santana sighed, then went over to her closet, angrily rummaging through her clothes to distract herself.

"What are you doing?" Quinn asked suddenly, poking her head and part of her upper body out of the blanket. She struggled to lift herself up a little, but her body was clearly beginning to succumb to exhaustion, drained both emotionally and physically.

"Getting into something more comfortable," Santana answered simply, as she began to slip out of her dress.

Quinn nodded. "Oh. When I heard your footsteps, I thought…I thought you were leaving me," she admitted in a small voice. Her face reddened with embarrassment at the panic that had abruptly welled up within her at the idea that she was being left alone, as though she was a child who was afraid of the dark.

Once Santana had finished changing into her sweat pants and a tank top, she walked back over to the bed and sat on the edge, taking Quinn's hand into her own. "No one is going to leave you by yourself, Q. I promise."

"Okay." Quinn quietly replied. Her thin frame relaxed at last against the pillows as her drowsy eyes began to flutter, though she still managed to give Santana's hand a small tug, urging the other girl to lie down next to her.

"Wait, Q. Hold up. I have something to show you." Santana slid off the bed and knelt down to reaching beneath it. "Mami gave this to me when I first moved up here. " She said held up a long, smooth wooden baseball bat. "New York City – hey, you never know," she said with a devious wink.

A faint smile quirked at the corners of Quinn's lips, and she reached out to grab it with both hands. Santana let her take it, and the blonde turned over, holding the weapon close, the way a child might hold a favorite stuffed animal. "Between you and this bat, he doesn't really have a chance."

Santana chuckled at the remark. "Plus, we've got Rachel and Kurt out in the living room. Trust me, those two are stronger than they look," she said, still smiling as she climbed into bed next to Quinn. "I think Rachel actually took one of those Israeli martial arts classes, so if anybody tries anything, they're in for a real surprise."

"I like the way you say that with conviction."

Santana snuggled in close, resting her head against Quinn's shoulder. "I've lived with both of them, remember? I have stories..."

"You'll have to tell me about them later," Quinn said drowsily.

Quinn breathed a peaceful sigh when Santana's warm front pressed against her back, the other girl's arm protectively circling around her waist, holding her firmly. It was a feeling of comfort and safety she hadn't felt in so long.

"Santana?"

"Yeah, Q?"

"Don't leave - even after I fall asleep. I…I just need you next to me. Okay?"

The need in Quinn's voice caused Santana's heart to clench with sadness. How any man could break Quinn Fabray, Santana would never know - but what she did know was that, by God, they were going to figure this out together and get Quinn her life back.

She pressed a kiss to the back of Quinn's neck, giving her a gentle squeeze with the arm circling her waist. "I won't leave. Promise."

Quinn finally allowed her eyes to flutter closed, and within seconds, her breathing evened out, and then she was fast asleep. Santana didn't get much sleep herself, but she kept her word, watching Quinn sleep, staying with her the entire time.

* * *

With the two ex-cheerleaders retired to Santana's bedroom, Rachel and Kurt were left in the loft's living area to try and sort through the day's stunning events. Rachel was glad to have someone to discuss things with, but the stricken look on Kurt's face made her worry if she had another friend in need of comfort rather than a partner in conversation. He sat with his hands steepled in front of his face, his elbows atop his knees, staring at nothing. Rachel knew Kurt about as well as she'd ever known anyone, and watching him now, she knew that he was trying desperately to reconcile the Quinn he'd always known with the one who had thrown her arms around him, the one with swollen, fearful, haunted eyes.

Rachel could relate, of course. She was still as shocked and distraught over Quinn's sudden, desperate appearance as she could be, and the sudden quiet in the loft made her thoughts reverberate even louder in her mind. How could this have happened - and to _Quinn, _no less? It just didn't make any sense. Quinn was many things, but Rachel could never have imagined her as someone who could be treated the way her - her mouth twisted in distaste, as though she'd just downed a shot of lemon juice as she thought the word - _boyfriend_ had apparently treated her.

"It's her mom and dad all over again," Kurt whispered. "She sought out and found a guy just like her father, and he's treating her just like her dad treated her mother."

"What? Kurt, you're not saying - " At this point, Rachel had thought she couldn't be shocked anymore, but Kurt's words shook her to the core. "Are you implying that Quinn somehow _wanted_ this?"

Kurt looked at her as though she'd just slapped him. His mouth and eyes were wide open in horror, and Rachel instantly regretted her words at the hurt expression he wore.

"Of course not!," he cried softly, indignant. "I meant - well, you know how Quinn's parents were. Her father was a domineering bully, and her mom drank heavily just to deal with it. Quinn told me his verbal and emotional abuse were what drove her older sister Frannie out of the house and into an early marriage."

Closing her eyes to deal with the headache forming behind them, Rachel let out a heavy sigh. "Did...did he hit them, too?"

"I've often wondered that myself, but I don't know for sure. Quinn never said he did, and I didn't push," Kurt admitted. He lifted the cup of tea Rachel had brewed for him to his lips, blew on the steaming beverage to cool it, then took a small sip. "It was a long time ago. We only talked about it maybe a couple of times, which surprised me to no end. We weren't exactly close, you recall."

"They _do_ say that abuse runs in cycles," Rachel mused. She pulled her legs up onto the couch and leaned back against one of the soft cushions behind her. No show rehearsal had ever been so exhausting. She was bone-deep tired, but she knew she wouldn't truly be able to rest until this situation was resolved.

Kurt's memories loomed like ghosts as he cast his mind back to those strange conversations he'd had with Quinn.

"It was like she was talking about someone else, even though she made no effort to disguise the fact that she was actually talking about herself. Maybe...maybe she talked to me about it because if she talked to you, or to Santana, or even Brittany, that would make it more real somehow. You girls were always much closer to her than any of the guys were. She always held us at arm's length, made herself a mystery. None of us could ever figure her out."

"Honestly, as close as we were, Santana and I always knew she kept secrets from us too," Rachel admitted. "It wasn't like we ever got the full story about anything from her either. Maybe her relationship with her father made her distrustful of men, even the ones she liked."

"Or maybe the guys she dated - Finn, Sam, even Puck - were too _nice_ for her. Maybe she _was_ subconsciously looking for something else. Not someone _violent,_ of course, but perhaps someone more...forceful. Someone who would treat her more the way her dad did."

"I don't know." Rachel rubbed at her temples, wishing that the image of Quinn's bruised face and limbs would stop flashing in her mind every time she closed her eyes. "But if you're right...if she _was_ looking for someone like her father...well, it looks like she found him." Her voice was hoarse, raspy with exhaustion. She hadn't cried this much in a long time; she'd almost forgotten how draining it was. She felt as though she had used up all her tears in this single day.

"And then some," Kurt agreed sadly. "What are we going to _do,_ Rachel? We can't let her go back to...to _that._ We just can't."

Rachel reached out a reassuring hand to gently squeeze his arm. Her voice, though, when she spoke again after a handful of silent moments, was soft but firm. "We _won't._ I swear it. We'll protect her, Kurt. All of us will, no matter what it takes."


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter Five_

Mollified, Kurt got up from the couch and stretched his arms out, yawning. He gave an embarrassed smile. "Sorry. I'm not used to this kind of excitement. If you want to go to bed - " He nodded towards Rachel's room. " - you can go right ahead. I'm going to wait for Blaine, and then I guess we'll just sack out on the couch or whatever. That's okay with you, right?"

Rachel's lips quirked up in a smile of her own as she swung her legs out and rose to her feet. "Of course it is. Please give my love to Blaine when he gets here, okay? Just...just have him text you when he's nearby, so I won't be startled when I hear the door open."

"I'll do that." Kurt looked like a lost little boy in that moment, like he was trying to be brave and not show the fear he felt, and Rachel felt her heart break for what felt like the thousandth time that day. "Thanks, Rachel. Try to get some rest. I know how important your beauty sleep is to you," he joked.

"Always," she returned. She took a couple of steps away, then turned and threw her arms around him, burying her head in his chest. She fought against tears, suddenly overwhelmed by everything she was feeling. "I'm so glad you're here."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be. Nobody messes with the Glee Club and gets away with it. Nobody."

As she squeezed him tightly, she hoped with all her might that his words would prove to be true.

* * *

A few hours later, Santana lay awake in bed with Quinn cuddled into her, still asleep. Her head was propped up against the pillows as she scrolled through her phone to busy herself. Quinn was using her stomach as a pillow. She had kept her promise and not left her side for even a moment.

Just as she began to read an article about some trashy reality show, the blonde began to stir, whimpering. She immediately looked down to see what was wrong, instantly becoming aware of her best friend's suddenly aggravated state.

"No, please don't..." Quinn whimpered, her nails digging into Santana's side, her entire body tensing, as though ready to ward off incoming blows from an invisible assailant. "I-" she gasped, her once even breaths now becoming short and shallow.

"Quinn..." Santana hesitantly tried, not wanting to scare her, but also wanting to wake her from her nightmare. Slowly she sat up, watching as Quinn began to tremble, tears spilling from her eyes, even in her sleeping state. "Quinn." She reached out, placing a light hand on her shoulder. "It's only a dream." She gently shook her, wanting to take her out of the nightmare she was having.

"No!" Quinn shouted, suddenly jolted awake. Her eyes were wide and fearful, darting around the room. "No!" she yelled again, disoriented and confused, weakly pushing at the body near her in panic.

"Quinn!" Santana tried, reaching out to try and grab her wrists. "It's all right! It's all right!"

"What's wrong!?" Rachel's voice sounded from the door, her eyes wide with worry, with Kurt and Blaine not too far behind.

Quinn looked up, her vision blurry with tears. Her heart pounded in her chest as she desperately tried to suck in some much-needed oxygen.

"She was having a nightmare," Santana explained, trying to soothe the blonde to no avail.

Rachel swiftly stepped over to the bed, sitting down in front of Quinn, gently cradling her face in her hands. "Quinn, I'm here now. You're safe. Breathe, breathe. Come on, breathe with me," she said in a voice pitched to calm, taking in a breath, then exhaling slowly, a technique she had learned over the years and found useful for both singing and relaxing. "Do it with me," she instructed.

"He's coming!" Quinn cried in fright. She was trying to mimic Rachel, but at this point she could only wheeze between short, sharp sobs. "I – I – can't...please...don't!" She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut against the terror of the images that still filled her mind.

Kurt's hand flew to his mouth. Seeing Quinn like this made him queasy. He turned away, hugging Blaine, who was himself finally getting his first look at her. Rage filled him at the idea of some guy reducing the proud, imperious girl he had known to the quivering, sobbing mess who sat gasping for breath on the edge of Santana's bed.

"One breath at a time," Rachel said soothingly, using one hand to rub at her shoulder, while the other gently combed through her blonde hair.

"You're safe," Santana assured her. "It was only a dream, Quinn."

Quinn's bleak eyes remained locked with Rachel's as she slowly calmed herself. Her cheeks were still wet with tears, but she was finally succeeding at mimicking Rachel's slow and peaceful breaths.

"That's it," Rachel encouraged, and soon, two frail arms were wrapped around Rachel as Quinn buried her tear-streaked face in the smaller girl's neck.

"I'm - I'm sorry," Quinn whispered, as if what had happened, any of it, was her fault.

"No need to apologize," Rachel assured her, holding her close, exchanging concerned expressions with Santana.

"Are you hungry?" Santana asked. "I can make Kurt and Blaine go get us some food."

"Artie and Tina are on their way over with some," Blaine said, getting a soft "Oh" of understanding from Rachel in return.

Quinn lifted her head to gaze at him with sad, haunted eyes. "Everyone knows?"

"We want to be here for you," Blaine answered simply. "Everybody does."

Quinn looked back at Rachel, her entire being looking small and defeated as she meekly asked, "May I take a shower?"

"Of course," Rachel replied, gently pulling away, but making sure she still held Quinn's hand as she did. She gave it a small tug. "You don't have to ask."

Quinn nodded mutely, standing up slowly, as though she were still dizzy and disoriented.

"Maybe Santana can offer you some fresh clothes to wear?" Rachel suggested, nodding to Santana, who was still more than a little in shock over everything she had just witnessed, including the part where Quinn actually requested permission to use the shower.

"Mmm? Yeah – yeah. Sure." Santana climbed off the bed and cleared her throat, wanting to lighten the mood somehow. "Auntie Tana with the fresh clothes coming right up, Lucy Q!"

Rachel led Quinn out of the bedroom by her hand, grabbing clean towels on their way. Once they were inside, Quinn stood with her arms wrapped around herself, looking around nervously, as though she expected the walls to grow hands that would grab her and drag her back where she came from.

"We'll be right outside." Rachel said nodding towards the living room, "By the time you're done, Artie and Tina should be here. It'll be our own little glee reunion – a glee-union!"

Quinn gave her a grateful smile, absently chewing on her split bottom lip. "Thank you, Rachel."

"Anytime." Rachel said. "If you need anything, anything at all - please let us know. And take your time." With that, she quietly pulled the bathroom door closed, leaving Quinn alone with herself for the first time since she'd come there.


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter Six_

Quinn stood in the middle of the bathroom, letting out a slow, ragged breath, before she began to get everything ready. When started stripping out of her clothes, however, she found herself unable to continue as a wave of sudden fear spreading out from the pit of her stomach. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes, attempting to clear her mind. But it was too quiet now, and without anyone near, she felt alone and vulnerable. She began to shake again, the all too familiar fear racing up her spine, and without another thought she reached for the door and yanked it open to see Santana, Rachel, Blaine and Kurt all sitting around the living room, quietly talking amongst themselves.

"Stop it, Quinn," she mumbled to herself, closing the door again. She tried to quiet her nerves, to ignore the ringing in her ears and the pain in her limbs. "They're right outside the door. You'll be fine."

She leaned back against the wall, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, repeating the action a few times. It helped a little - until the shower was turned on and the rushing water completely drowned out the muffled voices outside, and panic set in. She knew her friends wouldn't leave her, but there was still a dull ache of worry in the pit of her stomach. She was ashamed to admit it, but her mind was leaving her no choice; she simply needed to feel a sense of protection near her at all times.

Sighing at her weakness, disappointed in herself once again, she turned the water off and slowly pulled the door open a second time.

"Is everything all right, Quinn?" Rachel gently inquired, surprised at the blonde's sudden reappearance.

Quinn bowed her head, looking away from the curious eyes staring back at her. "Yes – " she said, embarrassed and self-conscious. Then she shook her head and began again. "No – I – "

Rachel rose from the couch and walked over to her, reaching out to take her hand. "What do you need?"

"Can - can one of you stay in here while I shower?" Quinn timidly asked, finally admitting to her need.

"Oh! Of course," Rachel said, turning to nod to the group before gently ushering Quinn back inside the bathroom.

Santana's jaw clenched with barely contained rage. She wrapped her fingers tightly around the bat she was holding, looking first at Blaine and then to Kurt, who both regarded her with troubled, but no less understanding, expressions on their handsome faces. "This guy is going to wish he never met me. I promise you that. Trust."

Blaine leaned forward, his eyes narrowed, his hands clenched into angry fists. "Me too," he said softly. "Me too."

* * *

It had been some time since Quinn had showered in the presence of another woman. The thought seemed odd to her as she was finally able to scrub off the sweat and grime, if not the shame, from her bruised body. She tried not to groan too loudly at the pain that seemed present in nearly every part of her as she moved, not wanting Rachel to hear, but knowing that of course Rachel would hear - the petite diva had the keenest hearing of anyone she'd ever known, to go along with her perfect pitch. Sighing, she stopped trying, which brought the inevitable question:

"Are you okay, Quinn?"

The old Quinn would have replied in an icy tone with something like, "Do I sound like I'm all right, hobbit?" But that Quinn was gone, possibly forever, replaced by one who had learned that anything other than a respectful tone and a direct "yes" or "no" invited...consequences. So she answered honestly, "No. No, I'm not okay. I hurt everywhere, and one of my shoulders...it doesn't seem to be working right." She winced in pain as she tried to raise her left arm above her head and found the simple task impossible. "I can barely lift my left arm."

Rachel bit her lower lip as she felt a fresh wave of anger and sadness surge through her small body at her friend's words, and the gasp of pain she heard from behind the shower curtain, knowing that Quinn was testing the arm she'd just mentioned. Quinn had always been the type to insist that she was fine when she wasn't; it was troubling, to say the least, to hear her admit to her pain so freely.

"If you need help - "

"No!" Quinn said, more sharply than she'd intended, the fear of being seen taking over. "I mean, thanks, but no, Rachel. I...I can manage. Just stay here with me, okay?"

The truth was, Quinn didn't want the full extent of her injuries to be seen, because she was sure that if Rachel, or anyone else, saw, they would demand that she go to the hospital, and she just couldn't handle that. She'd spent more than enough time in the hospital already; she wasn't eager to do so again. Plus, if she went to the hospital, the staff would surely call...him - and she wanted that even less. So she would just deal with the pain; better that than being discovered. At least she was safe here.

For now, anyway.

"Of course I'll stay," Rachel said. "I'm not going anywhere."

Quinn was ashamed at how much she needed to hear those words, but she was grateful just the same. "Thank you, Rachel. For everything." She turned her face up to let the hot water wash over her, blending with the tears that came unbidden, streaming down her cheeks as she held herself as though to keep her body from breaking entirely.

* * *

Outside the door, Santana, Kurt and Blaine waited for Artie and Tina to arrive with lunch, talking quietly among themselves. Nobody was really that hungry, sickened as they were by what had been done to their friend. They knew, though, that they had to keep themselves fueled in case anything happened. The question that weighed heavily on all their minds was the same: if the man who had done this to Quinn was capable of that...what else was he capable of doing?

"I wish she would go to the hospital," Kurt fretted, pulling his hand away from Blaine's. "I mean, I understand why she doesn't want to go, but you and Rachel...you don't have the kind of supplies, or medical expertise, to help her with the injuries you can see, let alone the ones you can't. She could be bleeding internally, or have broken bones, for all we know."

Santana sighed, getting up from the couch to pace around the room for perhaps the hundredth time that day already. "I know that - but we can't force her to do anything she doesn't want to do." She stalked over to the window, gazing out on a gray, chilly New York City day that looked as bleak as she felt. "Unless and until we see a sign that something's really, really wrong with her, we're just gonna keep her here and take care of her as best we can."

Blaine watched her, and his boyfriend, worriedly. "I get it. She doesn't want anyone else to see her like this. It's bad enough for us, her friends, to see her all bruised up like this, but to have a bunch of strangers see it? That's a lot to handle."

"It's not that," Santana snapped, rounding on him. "You think this is about vanity? Really? About pride? No. Think, Warbler. Who are they gonna call when she comes in, when they want to admit her for treatment or observation or whatever? Mr. Schue?"

Blaine's face fell. "Her boyfriend."

"Got it in one." She made her way back to the couch, knowing that she wasn't really so much angry with him as with the situation, and with the person responsible for it all. Rage flared in her all over again. She crossed her arms over her chest, fighting back tears. "The fucking bastard. I said it before, and I'll say it again: if I _ever_ meet that guy, I'm so gonna go all Lima Heights on his ass. He thinks he can fuck with Quinn and get away with it? Fuck, no. I'll hit him so hard, his god-damned mother will feel it!"

"I've got next," Blaine intoned grimly. "And I'm sure Mike and Sam and even Artie would like to get their own swings in, too."

"Has anyone heard back from Puck?" asked Kurt. "You know _he's_ never turned down the opportunity for a fight."

"Everybody's tried to get a hold of him, but you know Puck," Santana replied, staring out the window once again. "He's always been unreliable, even at the best of times. Honestly, I'm not sure that Quinn would even want to see him, anyway. I don't have to remind you of why, do I?"

Suddenly, there came a knock at the door. Everyone froze in place as Rachel and Quinn emerged from the bathroom a split-second later. Quinn's eyes went wide with fright as the knock sounded again. Rachel stood beside her, holding her at the waist, putting on her best brave face.

Santana sprang up from the couch and sprinted to the door, wishing she'd thought to retrieve the baseball bat from her bedroom first.

"Guys! It's us!" Tina's voice sounded from beyond the door. "Open up! Artie's got three pizzas on his lap, and he says that's very uncomfortable."

Artie's voice joined hers. "It's true. Let us in!"

Held breaths were released, and Santana rolled her eyes as she slid the bolt free, opening the door to see the bespectacled face of Artie Abrams, assistant director on the indie horror flick The Creature Lives Again, seated in his wheelchair with a stack of pizza boxes perched atop his legs, and the warm smile of Tina Cohen-Chang, the best damned singing future OB-GYN in all of New York City.

"Wheels, Asian Persuasion," she nodded in greeting. "Get in - and _don't_ let those pizzas fall, or your ass is cleaning up the mess, chair or no chair. Understand?"

Artie stared up at her through his glasses, blinking. "Same old Santana," he mumbled as he wheeled himself over the threshold, carefully holding the pizzas in place with a gloved hand. Tina followed him in, then closed and bolted the door behind her as a chorus of shouted, happy greetings filled the loft.


	7. Chapter 7

When Tina reached Quinn, she did her best to keep her expression calm and composed, reaching out to gently cup her cheek. As a student in med school, and now in residency, she had already seen a lot of things that were hard to look at; but seeing Quinn like this, bruised and broken, hit her unexpectedly hard. Her stomach twisted as she took in the cuts, the bruises and the swelling on the other girl's face, which she still found beautiful despite all of that.

She took a long, deep breath, swallowing it down past the tightness in her throat. Quinn needed her friends to be brave and strong for her right now. She needed as much support as possible, and by God, she was going to get it.

Quinn ducked her head to avoid her friend's eyes, yet she couldn't help but lean into Tina's soft touch. "I'm fine," she quietly insisted, but the words didn't even ring true to her own ears anymore. "Really."

"No, you're not, Quinn," said Rachel, coming over to stand next to them, ignoring Quinn's annoyed frown to focus instead on Tina. "Would you be willing to check her over? We tried to convince her to go to the hospital, but…well, you can understand why she wouldn't."

Quinn sighed. The last thing she wanted was to be poked and prodded any further, even if Tina had medical training. "Rachel, no. Seriously, it's not necessary."

Tina nodded, dropping her hand to her side, disregarding Quinn's protest. "Absolutely. I'll call Marley and have her bring over some medical supplies. She'll be here after work." She excused herself to make the call from the relative privacy of Rachel's bedroom.

"Until then, you need to eat," Santana stated firmly, marching over from the kitchen to shove a paper plate with a slice of pizza on it into Quinn's hand. "So here."

Quinn blinked at Santana, then stared down at the slice of pizza she now held in her hands. Even though she knew she was safe here, and that none of her friends would judge her, her ex had drilled into her head the ridiculous notion that she was overweight. She heard his voice, judgmental and intimidating, echoing in her mind, shaming her for entertaining the mere thought of indulging in something as innocent as a single slice of pizza.

Santana wrapped her fingers around Quinn's dainty wrist and tugged her over to the couch, sitting her down next to Blaine, then taking the spot on the other side. "I can see the wheels turning in your head, Q. Whatever nonsense that fool filled your mind with, it's all bullshit, whether or not you're capable of realizing it right now. You're eating at least one slice - " She handed Quinn a bottle of something cold. " - and not only that, you're going to wash it down with a damned beer."

Rachel, overhearing them, instead grabbed something else from the fridge, then briskly hurried over to snatch the beer out of Quinn's hand, exchanging it for a Coke. "We'll start with a soda, I think." She handed the beer back to Santana. "It's probably not the wisest idea to offer her alcohol at this point in time, Santana."

"Okay." Quinn nodded weakly. "Okay, I'll eat, just…back off a little, okay?"

Santana rolled her eyes and sat back against the couch, her jaw clenching. She wanted to yell at Quinn about how it was ridiculous and insane that she could ever consider herself overweight or unattractive, all because of some stupid guy, but she knew she couldn't. She was still fragile and anxious, and the last thing Santana wanted to do was add more insult to injury. So for once in her life, she decided to say nothing and instead chugged half of the beer, shooting Artie a glance of thanks for supplying it.

"Can you guys just – can we talk about something else, anything else?" Quinn pleaded as she made herself take a small bite of the pizza. "Something other than me? Please?"

"Um...oh! My boss, Isobel, is letting me take charge of next month's fashion show!" Kurt piped up suddenly, looking past Blaine and over to Quinn, who silently thanked him for the subject change. "Sundress season is quickly approaching, you know." He gave her a wink and a smile, somehow managing to mask his true emotions. Every time he took note of Quinn's defeated posture, his heart sank a little more, and he couldn't help but wonder if they would ever see the Quinn they used to know again.

Little more than an hour later, Quinn was finally laughing when the conversation veered from them talking about their careers to reminiscing about the glee club, and high school in general.

"Brittany stole one of Mr. Schue's sweater vests one time," Santana said, twirling a lock of her hair around one finger, while her other hand held Quinn's. "I think she tried to put it on that weird cat of hers, Lord Tubbington, but of course it didn't fit."

"She did," Artie deadpanned. "I remember that. It was on an episode of 'Fondue for Two.'"

"That's right! Oh, that poor cat," Quinn laughed, almost beginning to feel just a little bit like her old self. Almost.

"I'm not sure I'd feel sorry for him," Rachel shot back, smiling brightly. "If nothing else, he was pretty well fed." It made her feel good to see Quinn having a good time, laughing and bantering with their old friends as though terrible things hadn't been happening to her for the last year.

It almost felt like old times, and they were all able to forget for the moment about the unfortunate facts of Quinn's current life, until Tina's phone rang, interrupting the conversation.

"It's Marley," Tina said, standing up before answering the call. "Hi, sweetie. Where are you right now...?" Her voice trailed off as she headed back to Rachel's bedroom to speak to her fiancee in private.

Quinn leaned her head against Santana's shoulder, scanning the room to observe her friends. Her heart swelled with gratitude for them, amazed at how quickly they had all come together just for her, with Mike and Sam still due to show up. They may have started off as barely more than strangers way back when, but somehow all those hours in the choir room back at McKinley had made a family out of them - and they were rallying to her side now just as they had then. The idea of anything bad happening to them for her sake made her heart sink and her stomach feel queasy, though. She wondered absently if it was fair for her to ask so much of them yet again.

"Quinn?"

Quinn blinked at the sound of Rachel's voice, breaking her out of her thoughts. "Yes?"

"Marley has arrived. Would you allow Tina and her to examine you now?"

"Rachel…" Quinn groaned, but she could feel the intensity of Santana's gaze upon her, and Rachel's pursed lips told her the tiny brunette wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. Her friends were annoyingly persuasive that way.

"If you won't go to the hospital…" Blaine began, letting his voice trail off meaningfully, and Quinn finally relented with a long, low sigh.

"Okay, okay! You win, Rachel. I'll do it," Quinn said, letting go of Santana's hand to slowly get to her feet, wincing at the million aches and pains she felt throughout her body, just as Tina's fiancée entered the living room area. "Hey, Marley," she greeted with a small wave, suddenly feeling very insecure and unsure of herself. "It's good to see you."

"Yeah, it's been a while," Marley said with a smile, handing the bag of medical supplies she had brought over to Tina before carefully pulling Quinn into a warm embrace. "Good to see you too." Marley's gentle hug somehow helped the ex-cheerleader to relax, enabling her to make peace with the idea of being examined. _Better this than the hospital,_ she thought to herself.

"Where can we do this in private?" Quinn asked as she pulled out of the hug, casting her eyes around the room, feeling as though everyone else was staring, although it was really only Rachel and Santana who were watching them. "Really not into making this a public event."

Marley nodded in understanding. She looked over to Rachel, who was watching them with an anxious look on her face. "I was thinking the bathroom?"

"It's a little small, but I guess it will have to do," Tina concurred, not missing the equally anxious expression on Quinn's face. "If that's okay with you, Rachel? Santana?"

When Santana barely flicked her head in acknowledgment, Rachel answered for both of them.

"Of course. Please help yourselves to anything you may need." With that, Rachel led the way, glancing back over her shoulder to catch Santana's eyes following them. She pushed the door fully open and gestured for the three of them to go inside.

"Thank you, Rachel. We've got this," Tina said reassuringly. "Come on, Quinn. Let's go." She wrapped an arm around Quinn's waist and guided her inside, closing the door behind them.

Rachel stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door. Then, with a worried sigh, she turned around to head back over to the couch, where she took the vacant spot next to Santana.

"Good thing we know people in the medical field, huh?" Rachel said softly. Santana wrapped an arm around her as the smaller girl rested her head on her shoulder.


	8. Chapter 8

Once Rachel sat down again, she tried to rejoin in on the conversation between their friends, but her eyes - and her concentration - always drifted away to linger on the bathroom door. She worried and wondered as to what kind of injuries had been inflicted upon Quinn, how much damage had been done. When her imagination began to conjure up unwanted pictures in her mind, she abruptly stood, grabbed a few things from the coffee table and headed into the kitchen.

Santana had been paying close attention to her mood the entire time, too distracted to even care about whatever Artie, Blaine and Kurt were talking about at this point. She was worried too, and now not just about Quinn. When Rachel sprang up and left the living room, Santana followed.

"Hey," Santana said softly as she cautiously approached Rachel, who was drinking water from a tall glass that was decorated with stars. She'd seen Rachel do this many times before; it was her favorite glass, one she'd had since she was a child, and she always drank water from it whenever she was feeling sad or frustrated.

"There's still more pizza left, if that's what you came here for," Rachel replied, her eyes cast down, avoiding Santana's questioning gaze. But her shaky voice didn't go unnoticed, nor did her trembling hands.

And then Santana was standing right in front of her, so close that she could feel the heat of her body. She gently placed a hand on Rachel's arm to get her to stop moving. "You know I didn't come in here for more pizza. I came in here to see if you're okay."

Rachel inhaled sharply, trying to rein in her emotions. She'd been determined to be strong and put on a brave face for Quinn; but as time went by, it was getting more and more difficult. She couldn't stop thinking about what had happened to Quinn. Questions had been jostling for space in her mind, and now, with Tina and Marley tending to Quinn in the bathroom because she was too afraid to go to the hospital, it was all catching up to her.

"Rachel?"

Rachel spun around to wrap her arms tightly around Santana, burying her face in the other girl's shoulder. "I … I just don't understand!"

"I know," Santana whispered, returning the embrace. She ran her hands soothingly up and down Rachel's back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Her eyes fluttered shut as she took a moment to collect her thoughts and get her own emotions under control. Rachel trembled in her arms, sobbing. "She's here now, okay? Quinn's safe with us. Nothing bad can happen to her now."

Rachel sniffled and nodded against her, her fingers twisting the hem of Santana's shirt. "I'm sorry, Santana. I...I just hate seeing her like this. What's been done to her...nobody deserves that."

"It's gonna be okay, _estrella."_ Santana said, trying to reassure herself as much as the girl in her arms. She held her close, breathing in her scent. "Somehow, we're going to find a way to make that guy pay for what he did. I promise you that."

Rachel found herself wishing the same. She was completely opposed to violence, but she wanted justice for Quinn - and even though she was tiny, that didn't stop her from imagining a scene in her mind where she too successfully inflicted a measure of revenge upon the man who had hurt her friend so badly.

* * *

"This bathroom is so small. It's not exactly an ideal replacement for a proper exam room, but I guess it will have to do," Tina said, sitting Quinn down on the closed toilet seat as Marley followed her in and closed the door. "I wish that we could make this more comfortable for you."

Quinn pulled the collar of her robe tighter around her neck. "I've endured worse," she replied simply. "Sorry. I don't mean to sound like I don't appreciate what you're doing. I'm just..."

"It's okay, Quinn," reassured Marley, handing her fiancee the bag of medical supplies. "We don't know all the details, but we understand that you've been through a lot. We just want to do whatever we can to help."

"I heard you two are getting _married,_ huh? How did that happen?"

Quinn was genuinely curious; she hadn't kept as closely in touch with Tina as she had with Rachel and Santana, or even Kurt and Blaine, and she barely knew Marley, really, as the younger woman had graduated from McKinley after the rest of them, even after Tina, Sam, Artie and Sugar.

Tina smiled at the question, sending a loving glance over to the taller brunette, who smiled back. "Marley came to the hospital where I'm in residency. She's in veterinary school, and she'd been bitten by a particularly uncooperative little dog. I just happened to be there when she came into the ER. When I saw her, I remembered her from McKinley, of course, and we sort of re-connected."

"On our first date, we went to a karaoke place with Rachel and Santana," Marley said. "Santana watched us all night, and according to Rachel, she said, _Those two are totally doing it tonight."_

Quinn lowered her head and covered her face with a hand to hide her laughter. "Oh, my God. She _didn't._ Really?"

"Of course she did. This is _Santana_ we're talking about, remember? And we _did,_ um…well, you know," Tina confirmed, not missing the blush coloring Marley's cheeks. Then she fixed the blonde with a serious look. "Now, as much fun as we're having here, I'm afraid it's time for us to get down to business. You have something on under that robe, right?"

Blushing, Quinn answered, "Just a bra and panties."

"Okay, good. I'm gonna ask you to take off the robe now, okay?" Tina's voice was gentle, but Quinn could hear the slight tremble of nervousness in it. She was sure that her old friend had never imagined a situation where she would be asking the former HBIC of McKinley High School to disrobe. "Just so I can look you over."

Sighing, Quinn stood up in the crowded bathroom and slipped off her robe, closing her eyes when she heard the other two women gasp. Her body had once been beautiful - lean, strong, athletic. Now it was thin and unhealthy, bruised and sore all over, bearing the marks of a relationship that had gone terribly wrong - if it had ever been right at all. Not for the first time, she wondered how it had all come to this.

"Oh, Quinn," Tina said with a heavy sigh. She looked her friend square in the eye, steeling herself to say what she needed to say next. "I'm not going to ask you to tell me anything you don't feel comfortable talking about, but…" She paused to let the weight of her words sink in. "I think you and I know each other well enough that we can be honest and direct with each other. You didn't get these bruises from falling down the stairs or bumping into something."

Quinn ducked her head, shame burning her cheeks in a fierce blush of embarrassment. It wasn't a question.

"No. No, I didn't. My ex…ex-boyfriend. He did this to me." It was a difficult admission to make. The words burned like acid on her tongue. Her blush intensified as her friends stared at the assortment of bruises, scratches and other marks on her body. The marks that he had left.

"My God, Quinn." Marley's hand flew up to cover her mouth, her eyes wide with shock and horror, quickly filling with hot tears. "How could...how could anybody do this to someone?"

Quinn shrugged. "He seemed to find it pretty easy."

"Okay...well," Tina's throat was tight with her own sadness, her own anger at what had been done to her friend. "Are you having any trouble breathing? Headaches? Difficulty sleeping?"

"I'm pretty sure my ribs are bruised; I can't take a really deep breath. And my left shoulder is messed up." Once again, she tried to raise her arm above her head, gasping at the pain when her arm could go no higher than parallel to the floor. "It's like…it's like it's stuck."

Gently feeling around Quinn's midsection, Tina had to agree that the livid purple bruises covering her rib cage area confirmed her self-diagnosis. "Yup, you've got bruised ribs all right. As for your shoulder, I think it's dislocated. I can try to pop it back in place if you want, but I warn you, it's not going to be pleasant."

"Story of my life," Quinn shot back.

It was meant as a joke, but there was no mirth in it. Marley's eyes reflected her own sadness back at her. She saw no pity there, no judgment or condemnation either - only compassion for a friend whose life had very clearly gone awry. Once again, Quinn felt humbled by the kindness everyone was extending to her, wondering what she had ever done to earn or deserve it.

"Um, be that as it may, I'd like to get that shoulder in order for you, if that's okay," Tina reminded her gently, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"Yeah. It's...it's okay."

"All right, then. Brace yourself. This is going to hurt."

She nearly bit through her bottom lip holding in the scream of pain that threatened to tear its way out of her throat when Tina manipulated the joint back into place, and strangely, it felt like a victory to her.


	9. Chapter 9

After wrapping an ice pack around her bruised ribs and putting Quinn's arm in a sling, they began to work on her superficial wounds, cleaning and examining, poking and prodding, determining which marks were old, which were new, and which needed to be watched going forward. Thirty minutes later, Marley tossed away the last of her cotton balls, arcing into a pile of bloody ones in the trash bin.

Quinn sighed, relieved that the impromptu exam was finally, mercifully, blessedly over. She still hurt all over, but Tina had thankfully allayed some of her more serious concerns.

"Thank you," she said quietly, looking at both of them, one eye still only half open thanks to the swelling. "I feel a little better now."

"I wish I could prescribe you some painkillers," Tina said, clearly a little agitated that she couldn't do more to help Quinn. "But without you seeing your own doctor or going to the hospital… "

Her voice trailed off as she watched Quinn shake her had "no." The blonde had made it very clear that she would _not,_ under any circumstances, be doing either of those things; it was simply too risky.

Quinn gave her an appreciative smile. "I would never ask you do anything that might put your license at risk. Honestly, Tina - and you too, Marley - what you've done today is more than enough." She put a hand on the medical student's shoulder in a gesture of gratitude. "My shoulder already hurts a lot less."

"Anytime, Quinn. I know we weren't always the closest of friends, but…look, anytime you ever need anything, don't hesitate. In the meantime, I suggest a strong over the counter pain reliever maybe one that contains something to help you sleep? Maybe Santana and Rachel already have something on hand?" She opened the mirrored medicine cabinet above the sink, checking to see what kind of medications might be available.

"I, um…I also think - " Marley began, clearing her throat. She didn't want to overstep any boundaries, but while they'd been bandaging Quinn's ribs, she'd been struck by just how thin she was. " - I also think it would be beneficial if you ate some more."

Tina turned around, holding a bottle of pills in each hand. "I have to agree with Marley. Even Coach Sylvester would say you're probably not at a healthy weight at this point."

Quinn sighed, reaching for the bottle of pain reliever. "Fine." She pried the top off the bottle and shook two pills into her good hand. "Could you two do me one more favor?"

Marley stepped forward when Quinn tried to stand up, slipping an arm around her waist, allowing the still weak blonde to put most of her weight on her as she hoisted her into a standing position.

"What is it?" Tina asked, then waited for the answer as Quinn popped the pills into her mouth, then swallowed them down with the small cup of water Tina had given her.

Quinn wiped her mouth with the back of her good hand. "Don't tell Rachel or Santana what you saw in here. Okay?"

Tina sighed as Marley shook her head no. "Quinn, they're only - "

"Trying to help, I know," Quinn cut her off. "Look, I can tell that this was hard for you, and you're professionals." She paused, looking her friends full in the face, hoping they would understand. "But Santana is already on the verge of going on a murderous rampage - and Rachel? I can't stand the sadness I see in her face every time she looks at me." She took as deep a breath as she could without wincing. "They're not stupid. They already know it's bad. I just - I just want to spare them the pain of knowing just how bad it really is. You can't blame me for that, can you?"

Tina and Marley shared a glance, conversing wordlessly. Then they both nodded at Quinn, apparently having come to a silent agreement.

"Okay. But under one condition," Marley said, holding up an index finger. "If anything - and I mean anything - feels off, if you're dizzy or nauseous or you feel any other kind of pain that wasn't there before, you call us."

"Yes. You call us - anytime, day or night, and we will be here," Tina added. "That's the deal. Okay?"

"Okay. I can do that. Now let's head back out there before they start to worry even more," Quinn said, pleased. "God only knows what they've been thinking this whole time."

Then she allowed the two of them to help her back into her robe - which wasn't exactly easy with one arm in a sling - and left the cramped confines of the bathroom for the much more open, much less claustrophobic living room area.

* * *

That evening, after sleep arrangements were made (Santana lost the coin flip), Rachel led Quinn into her bedroom, gently guiding her onto the mattress, then helping her to lie down.

Rachel asked put her hair up into a messy ponytail, already changed for bed. She wore a simple robe over her short, sheer nightgown, and her face was now unadorned by makeup.

"Do you need anything?"

Quinn leaned back against the plump, soft pillows, watching the petite brunette bustle around the small room, making sure that the next day's clothes were already prepared for both of them. She found it strangely comforting, somehow.

"No, I'm good. You've done more than enough. You all have," she said, yawning softly. "Honestly, I'm just looking forward to a good night's rest - hopefully no nightmares this time."

"I could always sing you a lullaby," Rachel teased.

"I don't think so. You sing so loud that you'll keep the rest of us awake. Possibly the entire building." They turned to see Santana standing in the bedroom doorway, holding the baseball bat in her hands.

"Hello, Santana," Rachel said pleasantly. "Coming to tuck us in?"

Santana ignored her roommate, choosing to focus on Quinn instead. "You good, Q?" she asked. "There's five relatively normal people out in the living room, and my bedroom isn't far away."

Rachel stuck her tongue out at Santana, drawing a chuckle from Quinn. "I'm good," she said. "Thank you."

"All right, well - just shout if you need anything. Snixx –" She patted the bat. " - and I are heading to sleep."

"There will be no shouting tonight, Santana," Rachel said firmly, her small hands poised to loosen the belt on her robe. "We'll see you in the morning. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Quinn waved to her fellow former cheerleader and received a small wave in return before Santana turned on her heel to retreat to her own room. Just as Rachel climbed into bed next to her, she whispered, "She wants to use that bat so badly."

"I know how she feels," Rachel replied, snuggling beside the taller girl. "I really do."

* * *

Mornings had never been Quinn's favorite time of day, thanks to all those times she'd been required to rise early for gymnastics and ballet as a child, and then for cheerleading practice in high school before she'd finally found the courage to abandon it and Coach Sue Sylvester in favor of the Glee Club. At Yale, she'd relished the opportunity to sleep late whenever she wanted, somehow managing never to take a class that started before noon, although of course she knew that opportunity would vanish upon graduation and entrance into the working world.

In the last year, however, early mornings have been the rule, and not for work; her now ex-boyfriend had insisted that she quit her job, stating that he would "take care of her." Then he'd insisted that she rise early to care for their ridiculously large apartment, which meant cleaning virtually all of the already immaculate place. He also declared that she was to begin cooking the elaborate dinners he favored, despite her immediate admission that she hadn't ever cooked on that scale before. And soon enough, she learned that there were..._consequences_ for failing to wake at the prescribed time, and so she'd been rising at the crack of dawn ever since.

Not for the first time, as she stared at the rising sun outside Rachel's bedroom window, Quinn thought of how Rachel used to wake up at a similarly early hour all through high school to work out on her elliptical machine, drink a nutritious smoothie and practice her vocal exercises in the shower. It reminded her, uncomfortably, of how she, Santana and others had once made fun of her for that, among many other things.

Also not for the first time, she was filled with regret over every single thing she'd said back then. Apologies had been made and accepted numerous times in the years since; but thinking about it now, after enduring all the cutting remarks and vicious put-downs her ex had directed her way, cut especially deep. She felt as though she now had a true idea of just how badly Rachel must have been hurt by all that, and recalling the pleasure she'd taken in her pain made her her breath catch in her chest.

Of course, that could also be the bruised ribs talking.

Quinn turned over, her front now to Rachel's back, and stared down at her friend's small, sleeping form. She really was a little thing, barely over five feet tall, but that petite form contained the largest heart Quinn had ever known. Again and again, Rachel was the one to give of herself, to extend kindness where none was deserved - to her, to Santana, even to the likes of David Karofsky - and asked for little or nothing in return. All Rachel had ever wanted from Quinn was her friendship; and for the longest time, all Quinn had ever done, it seemed to her, was make the girl work far too hard to earn it.

Yet even though bygones had been declared bygones long ago, Quinn found her heart hurting for all she had done. It didn't feel as though she'd ever truly done enough to make amends for the sins of their shared past, and now she'd come into Rachel's home and asked her to rescue her from yet another terrible choice she had made.

And it was all because she had never been able face up to the truth of who and what she was. Because she couldn't accept the simple, inescapable fact that she had always been in love with both of her best friends - and neither of them was a boy.

Again and again, she'd paid dearly for this, especially in the last year. Paid in tears, paid in stress, paid in pain. As she stared down at Rachel's lush, luxurious brown locks, spilling across the white of her pillowcase, at the elegant olive skin of Rachel's neck, she realized that she'd finally had quite enough of paying. It was insane that it had taken this long, and this much, for her to come to this grim epiphany, but Quinn remembered something now. Something she'd once said to the assembled members of the New Directions, some time ago, in what seemed like another lifetime:

_You can't change your past, but you can let go and start your future._

It was long past time for her to take her own advice. And she was going to start right now.

She sucked in a breath - as deep a breath as her sore, bruised ribs would allow - and leaned forward, ignoring the pain flaring in her side, to press a soft, gentle kiss to the back of Rachel's neck, just below her hairline. Quinn trembled at the sweetness of the taste of Rachel's skin, at the longing she suddenly felt to taste more of it, at the sudden surge of desire that threatened to overwhelm her. How many times had she lain beneath him and gotten through the experience only by imagining it was Rachel or Santana in his place? How many times had she touched herself, alone in that large, cold and sterile apartment, and brought herself to climax thinking of one or both of them, then spent hours crying afterwards?

Something broke inside her then, and she collapsed into Rachel, her sudden tears streaming down her face and into Rachel's hair, onto the same skin she had just kissed so tenderly. As hard as she tried to quiet herself, she just couldn't keep her tears, and all her long-repressed feelings, contained anymore. She wept for herself, for all the years and chances she'd wasted - and especially for her inability to answer, years ago, when Rachel had asked her this simple question:

_Do you not understand what you mean to me?_

She could have answered with the same question, but she hadn't dared. She's always been too afraid of the consequences, real and imagined, too afraid of what it meant to her present at the time, what it could mean to her future. So instead she had chosen to repress and deny and refuse to deal with so much, for so long, and it had all brought her to here, to now, to the point where it felt as though a simple kiss had brought her to the edge of a nervous breakdown. Her quiet sobs shook her entire body, and she was so consumed by sadness and bitterness and regret that she didn't even notice when Rachel turned over and was thrown immediately into emergency mode at the sight of her, crying and tormented and so, so horribly sad and alone.

"Oh my God, Quinn!" Rachel exclaimed, turning the light on instantly. "What's wrong? Does something hurt? Do we need to wake Santana, or call Tina?"

Quinn tried to manage a smile, to sound reassuring, but all she could muster was a choked, gasped protest. "N - no, no!" she croaked. "No, please. It's not - not what you think. It's nothing. Please don't - don't wake up Santana." She reached up to grab Rachel's shoulder, pleading with her red-rimmed, tear-filled eyes for her not to leave, not to upset anyone else.

Rachel frowned down at her, and her face in that moment, so filled with care and concern, was the most beautiful thing Quinn thought she had ever seen. "It doesn't look or sound like nothing, Quinn. I'm so scared right now, seeing you like this." Only the fact of Quinn's hand clutching at her shoulder prevented her from leaving. "Maybe I should - "

"No," Quinn repeated, sniffling. "I...I'm fine, Rachel. Really, I am. I'm...actually better than I've been...in a long, long time."

"I don't understand," Rachel said, letting the blanket fall away from her, exposing the short, silky nightgown she was wearing. Quinn was oddly struck by the way the pale blue of the garment contrasted with the olive tone of her skin. "What are you saying, Quinn?"

Quinn couldn't answer right away. Her brain was overwhelmed by the sight of all that beautiful, soft-looking skin, by the way Rachel's breasts were peeking out from the low neckline. How often had she caught herself daydreaming about a moment like this, but without the crying and near total breakdown?

"I'm saying...God, this is so hard. Why is this so hard?" Quinn pounded the bed with a fist in frustration, wincing at the pain that warred with her desire.

"What? What's hard?"

"I'm saying..." She swallowed, closing her eyes. This was the moment. She felt as though she would break entirely, just crumble into dust if she didn't let the words come out. "I'm saying that I love you, Rachel."

Rachel smiled, but stayed in the half-ready to leave posture she'd assumed, still poised to leap out of bed and call for help. "I love you too, Quinn."

"No...I mean, I _love_ you. As in, I'm _in love_ with you. I always have been." Her voice was small, tremulous. The words were out now. She couldn't take them back, even if she wanted to. She'd spent too long denying the truth of them, hiding from their meaning. No more.

"Quinn...I...what?" Rachel sank down to the mattress, looking completely stunned. "You - you're in love...with _me?"_

The blonde stared up at the ceiling, suddenly unable to bear the sight of Rachel's gorgeous face, at the deep brown eyes that always held so much compassion and forgiveness whenever they looked at her, seeing right through to her soul.

Quinn's voice was barely a whisper as she replied, "Yes. Since high school. And practically everything I've ever done since then has been because of that fact. I've spent my life running away from it, trying to hide from it, trying to deny it...and _this_ is what it's gotten me." She gestured to her bandaged ribs with her good hand. "This is the result of not being able to face it, of not being brave enough to say those simple words: I'm in love with you."

"Quinn...I never thought - I mean, I never let myself imagine. We kind of knew you weren't exactly straight - especially after the night you spent with Santana at Mr. Schue's attempted first wedding to Ms. Pillsbury - but when you still couldn't admit it, even after I came out…well, we decided it was best to just let it lie. Santana eventually decided that you'd just been an experiment for her."

"Not to re-hash ancient history or anything," Quinn said with a rueful chuckle, accepting the tissue Rachel handed her and dabbing at her eyes with it. "But no, she wasn't an experiment. It was just - I don't know, somehow easier with her. But what she thinks meant nothing to me actually meant everything. I mean, God, Rachel...I was such a mess, for so long. I still am, obviously. Mostly because of my family and the church we attended, but I didn't - I didn't _have_ to accept all that stuff. I didn't _have_ to swallow everything they said. That's on me. That was my mistake, and I've been trying to live with it all my life."

Rachel brushed at Quinn's cheeks with another tissue, wiping away the tracks left by her tears. The gesture was so intimate, so full of caring, that it made Quinn want to cry all over again. It seemed to her that all Rachel had ever done was give, and all she'd ever done was take. Yet now, seeing Rachel's soft, gentle smile, feeling her fingers running through her hair, Quinn felt like she'd been forgiven once again.

"How do you _do_ that?"

Rachel blinked at her in confusion, clearly thrown by the question. "How do I do what?"

"Make me feel forgiven for every mean, stupid, ill-considered thing I've ever done?"

"You don't need _me_ to forgive you, Quinn. You need to forgive _yourself."_

Quinn laughed, then winced at a lance of pain in her ribs. "Ow, ow, Rachel, don't make me laugh. Please."

"I'm serious, Quinn. I forgave you for everything a long time ago. But you've never done it for yourself." Rachel caressed her cheek, now with her bare hand. Quinn leaned into the touch, weak and desperate for more of it. "That's part of accepting who you truly are as well. Accepting your faults and failings, your mistakes and missteps - those things are part of you too. Once you do that, you can learn and grow and change for the better as a result, the bad as well as the good."

"That scares me, though. What if I _can't_ learn from them? What if...what if I'm destined to keep making the same mistakes, the same stupid choices, over and over again? And what if - " She forced herself to look into Rachel's eyes. "What if you can't love me the way I love you, after everything that's happened, because I'm so…I'm so damaged? I don't know if I could handle that."

"Oh, Quinn." Rachel sighed, leaning down so that their faces were suddenly mere inches apart. "Do you still not understand what you mean to me, after all these years?"

Before Quinn could answer, she felt Rachel's lips upon hers, and her surprised gasp quickly changed to a sigh, and then a moan of happiness, of sheer pleasure. Bad wing and all, she could have sworn she could fly at that moment, letting Rachel's kiss send her heart skyward as the morning light shifted through the window, wreathing them in brightness.


	10. Chapter 10

Santana stood at the stove, quietly stirring around some scrambled eggs. Her ears perked up when she finally heard mumbled voices coming from Rachel's room; she was glad that Quinn had apparently slept late and, more importantly, gotten through the night without any terrifying dreams. With a pleased smile, she turned off the burner and grabbed the frying pan off of the stove, still jabbing at the cooked eggs as she headed over to Rachel's room. If Quinn was up, she definitely wanted her to eat some more, and this time her breakfast would be chock-full of nutrition- almost like their old days with the Cheerios, but without the voice of one Coach Sue Sylvester echoing in their heads.

In true Santana fashion, she pushed the door open without knocking, about to yell that breakfast was ready, when she suddenly stopped in her tracks. Her jaw dropped to the floor as she watched her two longtime friends sharing what looked to be a passionate kiss. Her heart fluttered with shock and jealousy at the sight.

When she finally came to her senses, she backed up as quickly and quietly as she could to avoid disturbing them, then headed back to the kitchen, placing the pan back on the stove and restarting the burner. She was now very glad that Kurt and Blaine had left earlier before to buy coffee for all of them, grateful that no one was around to see the torn look on her face.

Putting aside the scrambled eggs, she began to throw some bacon into the frying pan. She knew Rachel hated the smell, but she wanted Quinn to eat all she could after everything she'd gone through for so long. The cooking was a welcome distraction from everything going on...or so she thought, anyway.

She watched as the bacon spit and splattered, dazed and more than a little confused, trying to stop her mind from wandering. Yet her brain kept replaying what she had just seen seconds ago in Rachel's bedroom, her stomach twisting into an uncomfortable knot of jealousy. But she wasn't even sure who she was jealous of - did she envy Rachel, or Quinn, or…both?

She had been living with Rachel for so long that she had grown to actually enjoy her company; and if she dared to be truthful with herself, she might even have maybe kinda sorta developed some sort of romantic feelings for her. Maybe it had started when Dani had broken up with her and she wasn't even bothered by it because Rachel had been so sweet, staying up all night with her watching horror movies and eating way too much ice cream. She recalled the feeling of those stupid romantic butterflies nestling comfortably in her gut when Rachel had curled up into her, pushing Dani quickly out of her thoughts and right into the past.

And then again, obviously, she would never be able to forget the drunken Valentine's Day drunken hook-up she and Quinn had shared, and she couldn't help but wonder: if she had claimed the blonde then, would there ever have been an ex-boyfriend like the one whose clutches she had just escaped?

"Too late now," Santana mumbled to herself. She shook her head, attempting to clear it of the memories playing in her head like a movie, and reminded herself that now was not the time to be feeling sorry for herself over that lost opportunity. Now was the time to be there for Quinn, to protect and save her from the awful situation in which she'd become trapped.

When the few strips of bacon were done, she glanced at her phone. Kurt's name popped up: he'd sent a text message to let her know that he and Blaine were on their way back with the coffee.

"Really, Santana, it doesn't hurt to open a window when you cook that stuff," Rachel announced as she emerged through the curtain of her bedroom. Santana turned to see her roommate tying the belt of her robe around her waist as she headed over to one of the windows, opening it up even though it was chilly and raining outside.

"It's bacon," Santana replied, returning her attention back to the pan, turning the strips over and over again with a pair of tongs. "Sorry, not sorry."

"Smells good," Quinn said in her adorably sleepy voice, coming over to where Santana stood to inhale the scent as deeply as she possibly could.

Her hair was a tousled (but still gorgeous) mess, and the pajamas she'd borrowed from Santana were a tad too small on her, yet she couldn't hide the happiness that radiated from her, or the jubilant smile that spread across her face. Clearly, whatever she and Rachel had shared together had put her in the best mood Santana had seen from the blonde since her arrival.

"I'm glad you like it, because I was going to make you eat it anyway. You didn't have any nightmares last night?"

Quinn shook her head _no_ as she sat herself down at the small kitchen table and answered, "No nightmares."

She looked over at Rachel, who had finally come back from where she'd been looking out the window at the traffic on the street below, and felt a sudden wave of giddiness washing over her. She wanted to say she was pain free too, thanks to a certain Broadway starlet who gave the most amazing massages, but instead she chose to watch Rachel help Santana in the kitchen.

"I got this," Santana protested, gently pushing Rachel out of the way. "I've been up cooking for a while already, so you can just go - go do your morning routine or something."

"I'm only trying to be helpful, Santana."

Rachel was a little taken aback by the edge in her roommate's voice; she hadn't experienced this side of Santana in a while, not since Kurt had moved out to be with Blaine and it became just the two of them living in the loft. She sighed, dismissing it as Santana just being agitated about Quinn's situation and disguising her distress as something else - the classic Santana coping mechanism.

Looking around the empty apartment, Quinn asked, "Where are Kurt and Blaine?"

"Coffee run. They should be back any minute now," Santana answered shortly.

Rachel looked at her, trying to read her expression. "Santana, are you all – "

Her question was cut off when there came a loud pounding at the door. Quinn instantly froze in place with the terrified expression they had sadly come to recognize all too well. Rachel flew to her side as Santana rushed over to the door, ready to take action; the bat she'd taken to keeping close by was already in her hand.

"Who is it?"

"It's us," came Sam's voice from the other side. "Sam and Mike," he clarified unnecessarily.

Santana rolled her eyes as she unlocked the door, then slid it open. She glared at them as they entered. "I told you idiots to text me when you were here. Apparently you two still listen about as well as you did when we were in Glee Club."

"Nice to see you too, Santana," Mike responded with a sly smile. He pulled her into a hug as Sam followed him in.

"When you see Quinn, you'll understand why I gave you that instruction, genius," Santana growled, stepping out of his arms to let Sam hug her next. "Hey, Trouty Mouth."

"We brought donuts," Mike said, holding up the large box that Sam had handed to him so that he could hug Santana. Laughing, Santana gestured towards the kitchen. "Put 'em over there, and go say hi to Quinn and Rachel."

She turned back to the door when she heard Kurt and Blaine walking down the hallway, chattering amongst themselves. Santana waited until the two of them entered before shutting and locking the door again.

"I can't believe you two came all the way from Chicago," Quinn exclaimed with a broad grin as she stood up to wrap her arms around the both of the newcomers, reveling in their strong, secure presence. "It's been too long."

"It's really good to see you," Mike replied, trying not to let his gaze linger too long on the bruises he saw on her face and arms, the puffiness around one of her eyes.

Sam, on the other hand, had to be distracted by Rachel's insistent tug on his arm, so appalled was he at what he saw.

"Well, now that it's a party," Santana began as she returned to the now crowded kitchen area, "Rachel, you can take over here - because I know you're dying to anyway - and the rest of you can keep Quinn company. Help yourselves to the eggs and bacon. There's plenty." Then she turned and headed towards her bedroom.

"Santana?" Quinn pulled out of her embrace with Sam, suddenly feeling alarmed at the idea of Santana not being around. "Are you leaving?"

Santana stopped at her bedroom door, nodding. "I need to go to the gym." Her eyes focused on the four guys and then on Rachel, who was clearly gazing at her with a disapproving eye. "Hey, it takes _work_ to look this good. And besides, you've got a small army camped out here, Q. You'll be fine without me for a while."

"I, um…okay, I guess." Quinn pursed her lips as Santana disappeared into her bedroom. "Don't be long." She locked eyes with Rachel, and the two of them shrugged in confusion at the the other girl's sudden mood swing.

"I think she needs to let out some frustration," Kurt opined. "It must be eating her alive not to go after – " He paused, not wanting to bring up the obvious. "Well, I mean – come on, you remember when she fought Lauren Zizes, right?"

No one wanted to point out how _that_ had gone, and so the observation passed without further comment.

"Okay, how about everyone grab a plate?" Rachel clapped her hands, expertly diverting everyone's attention. "It looks like there's enough food here for all of us - especially you, Quinn. Eggs are a great source of protein!"

Santana was grateful for the distraction, silently thanking Rachel for stealing the spotlight. She slipped into her coat and out the door without anyone noticing.


End file.
